FEBRUARY 2022Join us throughout the month of February 2022
-- or "FeBREWary" as we like to call it -- as we post more of the coffee poetry of Emmett Lee Dickinson (Emily Dickinson's third cousin, twice removed -- at her request). |
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FeBREWary 28
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Me – Wake! My frazzled face In such a dim-lit place! Me – hear! My recharged Ear The sounds of Brewing – there! The Scents entreat My bashful feet – My Dawning Day, shall start When I – from bed depart My Paradise – will flow When I – consume my Joe – |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Me – Come! My dazzled face In such a shining place! Me – hear! My foreign Ear The sounds of Welcome – there! The Saints forget Our bashful feet – My Holiday, shall be That They – remember me – My Paradise – the fame That They – pronounce my name – |
FeBREWary 27
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Each Morning’s intercepting Chill Appalls the Nightly Rest – But Morning Brew’s Exuberance Adds Automatic Zest. |
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By Emily Dickinson:
No Autumn’s intercepting Chill Appalls that Tropic Breast – But African Exuberance And Asiatic Rest. |
FeBREWary 26
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
The Start of an arriving Hour Has yet a salient flow – The Coffee from a Welcome Cup With its Dispatch of Joe. |
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By Emily Dickinson:
The Stem of a departed Flower Has still a silent rank – The Bearer from an Emerald Court Of a Dispatch of Pink |
FeBREWary 25
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Of Paradise’ existence All I know Is the uncertain certainty – But its vicinity, I know, When Percolating Morning Joe – |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Of Paradise’ existence All we know Is the uncertain certainty – But its vicinity, infer, By its Bisecting Messenger – |
FeBREWary 24
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Magic is the Coffee Bean With which I turn the Wheel And so the Vital Axle turns As I accept the Bean |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Ideals are the Fairy Oil With which We help the Wheel But when the Vital Axle turns The Eye rejects the Oil |
FeBREWary 23
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Here, where the Covers fit my Head ’Tis easier to lie I smell the Pot that brews inside So please save, some, for Me – |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Here, where the Daisies fit my Head ’Tis easiest to lie And every Grass that plays outside Is sorry, some, for Me – |
FeBREWary 22
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Besides this Cup I know There is Another – How dire My activations of the Coffee Pot! I drink Now what I brewed – Sweet Wonder – And Nature now Makes Sense, and my plan going Beyond – Next Cup! |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Besides this May We know There is Another – How fair Our speculations of the Foreigner! Some know HIm whom We knew – Sweet Wonder – A Nature be Where Saints, and our plain going Neighbor Keep May! |
FeBREWary 21
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Funny – to be a Barista – And see the People – going by – He – does live for our Constancy For when – We are more staid – than He – He steeps His Coffee swiftly – very – Were He to fail – extremely sorry The Weary Globe of Ours would be – So empty of Vitality – |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Funny – to be a Century – And see the People – going by – I – should die of the Oddity – But then – I'm not so staid – as He – He keeps His Secrets safely – very – Were He to tell – extremely sorry This Bashful Globe of Ours would be – So dainty of Publicity – |
FeBREWary 20
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
The Definition of Coffee is That Percolation is done – Of Heaven, easing Analysis, Since Heaven and It are one. |
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By Emily Dickinson:
The Definition of Beauty is That Definition is none – Of Heaven, easing Analysis, Since Heaven and He are one. |
FeBREWary 19
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
What I can drink – I will – Though it be little as a Coffee cup – Though I can now -- must have – Access to possibility – |
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By Emily Dickinson:
What I can do – I will – Though it be little as a Daffodil – That I cannot – must be Unknown to possibility – |
FeBREWary 18
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Mine – by the Right of the Dark Selection! Mine – by the Morning Meal! Mine – by the Pot at the Scarlet sunrise – Cups – cannot conceal! Mine – here – in Aroma – and in Taste! Mine – by the Day’s New Deal Filtered – and Warmed – Delicious Coffee! Mine – long as Hours reel! |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Mine – by the Right of the White Election! Mine – by the Royal Seal! Mine – by the Sign in the Scarlet prison – Bars – cannot conceal! Mine – here – in Vision – and in Veto! Mine – by the Grave's Repeal – Tilted – Confirmed – Delirious Charter! Mine – long as Ages steal! |
FeBREWary 17
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Time does go on – I tell it gay to those who waken now – We shall survive There is a joe – They do believe it now – |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Time does go on – I tell it gay to those who suffer now – They shall survive – There is a sun – They don't believe it now – |
FeBREWary 16
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Incredible the Coffee But limited the Cup |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Incredible the Lodging But limited the Guest |
FeBREWary 15
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Estranged from Coffee – none can be – For Coffee is new Energy – And power to be finite ceased Before Identity’s unleashed. |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Estranged from Beauty – none can be – For Beauty is Infinity – And power to be finite ceased Before Identity was leased. |
FeBREWary 14
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
How soft this Pillow is How warm these blankets are No Ruler but the King of Dawn Invented this repose Of Fate if this is All Has he no morning Joe A Bedroom but a Dungeon is If there’s no Coffee – though. |
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By Emily Dickinson:
How soft this Prison is How sweet these sullen bars No Despot but the King of Down Invented this repose Of Fate if this is All Has he no added Realm A Dungeon but a Kinsman is Incarceration — Home. |
FeBREWary 13
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
The Sun in rising from the East Makes not as much of sound As Heart of man in bed below Acutely hoping for That welcome Whiff of A.M. joe |
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By Emily Dickinson:
The Sun in reigning to the West Makes not as much of sound As Cart of man in road below Adroitly turning round That Whiffletree of Amethyst |
FeBREWary 12
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
The immortality it gives I borrow from its Pot – For just one Cupful furnishing The Might of Human life – |
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By Emily Dickinson:
The immortality she gave We borrowed at her Grave – For just one Plaudit famishing, The Might of Human love – |
FeBREWary 11
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
After the Sun comes out How it alters the World – Car loads of commuters hurry about Yesterday is old – All then drink as if Each desires a force – Fresh is the Coffee from the Pot Nature’s remedy – |
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By Emily Dickinson:
After the Sun comes out How it alters the World – Waggons like messengers hurry about Yesterday is old – All men meet as if Each foreclosed a news – Fresh as a Cargo from Balize Nature's qualities – |
FeBREWary 10
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Life essence is believed to be A quantity of coffee beans A merciful “Must Have” A power in an Idle’s Hand A Devotee has oft consigned To Add some Cream or Black |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Death warrants are supposed to be An enginery of equity A merciful mistake A pencil in an Idol's Hand A Devotee has oft consigned To Crucifix or Block |
FeBREWary 9
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Nature assigns the Sun – That – is Astronomy – Nature cannot French press a Joe – That – is Brewology. |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Nature assigns the Sun – That – is Astronomy – Nature cannot enact a Friend – That – is Astrology. |
FeBREWary 8
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
The Day that I was roused Was like the other Days – Until the Percolation came – And then – ‘twas Otherwise – As Coffee in the Pot And Coffee in the Cup Are One – and yet the former Provides a Refill cup – I rose, and all was plain – But then the Day increased Myself and it, now Energized Were equally -- released – The Joe that I – gulped down – To Me – surpassed the Need That is the Fitness for my Life – ‘Tis power now ‘tis Mine – |
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By Emily Dickinson:
The Day that I was crowned Was like the other Days – Until the Coronation came – And then – 'twas Otherwise – As Carbon in the Coal And Carbon in the Gem Are One – and yet the former Were dull for Diadem – I rose, and all was plain – But when the Day declined Myself and It, in Majesty Were equally – adorned – The Grace that I – was chose – To Me – surpassed the Crown That was the Witness for the Grace – 'Twas even that 'twas Mine – |
FeBREWary 7
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
If I shouldn’t be alive When the coffee brews, Give me some in one big cup An energizing fuse. If I couldn’t thank you, Being fast asleep, You will know I’m dying For a vital sip! |
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By Emily Dickinson:
If I shouldn't be alive When the robins come, Give the one in red cravat A memorial crumb. If I couldn't thank you, Being just asleep, You will know I'm trying With my granite lip! |
FeBREWary 6
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Yawning in my Bedroom Yawning in my Dreams Yawning in my Daybreak Yet I cannot speak. Better once with Coffee From the waiting pot Finished unrelenting Till the final drop Till the passing sunrise Lasting past its time Till my feet remembered Heading toward the light |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Glowing is her Bonnet Glowing is her Cheek, Glowing is her Kirtle, Yet she cannot speak. Better as the Daisy From the Summer hill Vanish unrecorded Save by tearful rill – Save by loving sunrise Looking for her face. Save by feet unnumbered Pausing at the place. |
FeBREWary 5
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
I rise myself within the hour, Thus fated for the Day, You, interjecting, brew for me – A pot of High Octane |
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By Emily Dickinson:
I hide myself within my flower, That fading from your Vase, You, unsuspecting, feel for me – Almost a loneliness. |
FeBREWary 4
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
My spirit rose to such a height My countenance it did inflate Like one that drank on awe. Now able to assault the dawn And live past the ethereal morn That effervesced from Joe. |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Her spirit rose to such a height Her countenance it did inflate Like one that fed on awe. More prudent to assault the dawn Than merit the ethereal scorn That effervesced from her. |
FeBREWary 3
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
With the arriving light I see acuter, quite When by a pot that brews. There’s something in this rite That clarifies my sight And ends my snooze. |
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By Emily Dickinson:
By a departing light We see acuter, quite, Than by a wick that stays. There's something in the flight That clarifies the sight And decks the rays. |
FeBREWary 2
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
Sweet is the mud with its secrets, When we from sleep awake; 'Tis then we leave our houses, And our departure take At that enthralling gallop That all commuters know. We wake for morning’s reason, And gulp it as we go. |
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By Emily Dickinson:
Sweet is the swamp with its secrets, Until we meet a snake; 'Tis then we sigh for houses, And our departure take At that enthralling gallop That only childhood knows. A snake is summer's treason, And awe is where it goes. |
FeBREWary 1
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By Emmett Lee Dickinson:
The distance that the dead must go Does not at first appear; Their coming back seems possible If coffee cups soon are near. And then, once they have swallowed down I more than estimate So animated they’ll become With what they percolate. |
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By Emily Dickinson:
The distance that the dead have gone Does not at first appear; Their coming back seems possible For many an ardent year. And then, that we have followed them, We more than half suspect, So intimate have we become With their dear retrospect. |
CAN'T WAIT UNTIL FEBRUARY? CHECK OUT DICKINSON'S COFFEE POETRY SERVED UP IN PAST YEARS.
